


Helping Hands

by southsidestyle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Barebacking, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, In Public, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sex on a Car, This Scenario Feels Like It's Straight Out Of Porn, Vaginal Fingering, Which Is Fitting Because That's All This Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidestyle/pseuds/southsidestyle
Summary: Cheryl is seriously considering starting the long walk home when the rumble of an approaching vehicle reaches her ears. Her initial reaction is relief, before she realizes her predicament has the potential to become front page of the Riverdale Register material, and then she braces herself as a lone motorcycle approaches and comes to a stop just a few feet away from her.It’s a Serpent, she can tell that much immediately, and for the first time in her life, Cheryl finds herself praying to see Jughead’s face as the leather clad male reaches up to take off his helmet.It’s not Jughead, but itisone of his little friends. Or, not so little, in this one’s case.





	Helping Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to squeeze one more rarepair fic out for Kink Week before it ended, and I just managed. Part of me wanted to do something with two completely new characters, but my mind kept coming back to this cliche scenario and I felt like it had to be either Cheryl/Sweet Pea or Cheryl/Malachai, and Sweet Pea won out because I thought their banter might be fun to write (and it was!), so here we are. It's not particularly kinky, so I'll say this goes for Day 8, Author's Choice. I imagine this is set not too long after episode 2.10.

Cheryl is just outside the North Side border when her car stops working and she’s forced to pull over to the side of a long, empty stretch of road. The road she’s on isn’t exactly an abandoned one, but Cheryl very much doubts she’ll be seeing many cars anytime soon, not at this hour.

It’s one in the morning, and of course she’d forgotten to bring her phone with her when she'd slipped out of the house to escape the horrific sounds of her mother entertaining a client—she hadn’t even bothered to change out of her nightgown. She just needed some peace and quiet and decided to drive around in Jason’s old car like they used to do sometimes in the summer, and because Cheryl can never get a win, now she's stranded on the South Side.

She reluctantly gets out of the car and pops the hood to look under it, as if she has any idea what she’s even looking for, but there’s nothing smoking or anything, so she’s truly at a loss for what to do.

Cheryl is seriously considering starting the long walk home—or at least _closer_ to home, where she can find a phone and call someone, perhaps Archie, to come pick her up—when the rumble of an approaching vehicle reaches her ears.

Her initial reaction is relief, before she realizes her predicament has the potential to become front page of the Riverdale Register material, and then she braces herself as a lone motorcycle approaches and comes to a stop just a few feet away from her.

It’s a Serpent, she can tell that much immediately, and for the first time in her life, Cheryl finds herself praying to see Jughead’s face as the leather clad male on the bike reaches up to take off his helmet.

It’s not Jughead, but it _is_ one of his little friends. Or, not so little, in this one’s case.

“Check it out,” the boy says in way of greeting, pushing strands of messy jet black hair out of his face as he rests his helmet against his hip. His eyes roam over her body, taking in her out of place nightgown, and he sends a smirk in Cheryl’s direction. “What’s the Queen of the North Side doing slummin’ it out here in her nightie?”

Cheryl’s fear vanishes as quickly as it came—because for all of his faults, Cheryl doesn’t think Jughead would associate himself with anyone that would harm a stranded teenage girl—and it’s replaced by a mixture of annoyance and disgust.

“What do you want, snake?”

The boy, Sweet Pea, she’s pretty sure, just laughs at her snide comment. “Strange way to talk to someone that’s considering helping you.”

“I don’t want help from the likes of you,” Cheryl is quick to spit at him, purely out of reflex; the thought of needing a South Side Serpent’s help for _anything_ makes her queasy. “I’d rather perish.”

Sweet Pea looks more amused than offended as he shrugs and moves to put his helmet back on. “Well, have fun perishing then.”

Cheryl straightens as she watches the boy get ready to leave her there and she manages to hold out until he revs his engine before she sucks up her pride.

“Wait,” she calls out reluctantly, the word forced out through clenched teeth and probably barely heard over the roar of his bike.

Cheryl knows he heard her though, because his foot drops back to the pavement and he pulls his helmet off again. “Yeah?”

He’s got this smug expectant look on his face, clearly enjoying the way Cheryl is struggling and squirming in front of him to get her next words out, and it infuriates her so much that it actually makes it easier for her to say them, if just to take some of the pleasure away from him.

“I suppose you can assist me,” Cheryl eventually says, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that she wants to appear nonchalant, but really comes off as anything but.

“Oh, I can, can I?” Sweet Pea laughs at her, but still dismounts his bike all the same. He leaves his helmet on the seat and takes steps towards Cheryl, where she’s standing rigidly in front of her car, and looks down at her with a smirk once he’s towering over her. “Why don’t you ask nicely, Princess?”

Cheryl immediately scoffs. “As if I would ever,” she starts to protest but when Sweet Pea promptly turns to walk back to his bike, she quickly reaches out to grab at the arm of his leather jacket. “Okay, okay,” she says desperately, waiting until the boy has turned back around before she forces the words out. “Will you _please_ help me with my car so I can get as far away from this Hellmouth as possible?”

Sweet Pea lets out a scoff of his own, though his is far less indignant than hers was, and shakes his head in amusement before it morphs into a nod as he steps around Cheryl. “I’m no mechanic, and I know more about bikes than cars, but I can take a look.”

“I would have assumed all you miscreants were well versed in auto repair,” Cheryl can’t help but quip as she watches Sweet Pea lean over the hood of the car to try to spot any damage in the dim glow from the street light above them. “That’s likely as high as any of your kind can hope to dream after you age out of high school, is it not?”

Cheryl doesn’t know why that comment is any different than her others, but she sees the boy tense, and she barely has the words out of her mouth before he’s standing upright and slamming the hood of Jason’s car shut to glare at her.

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” There’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before, and all trace of previous amusement is gone from his features. “Can’t even keep your gob shut for two minutes when someone is _helping_ you, even though you don’t deserve shit. I could’ve just kept driving instead of stopping to help your spoiled, privileged, ungrateful ass.”

While Cheryl is a little surprised by his sudden shift in attitude, she’s otherwise unfazed, even though he’s got a good amount of height on her.

“If you thought I was going to fall to my knees in eternal gratitude, then you’re even dumber than I originally thought,” she snarks back at him, whipping her hair behind her shoulder as she tries her best to appear blasé. “And I assure you, that is quite an accomplishment; your first, I’m sure.”

Sweet Pea’s glare holds steady for a moment longer before his eyes flash with something and the line of his mouth curves up into a smirk. “In eternal gratitude, no,” he agrees, his gaze flickering down to Cheryl’s pouty mouth. “But I was kinda hoping maybe you might get on your _knees_ for something else.”

Cheryl’s hand is out and connecting with Sweet Pea’s face before she even realizes she’s doing it, but it does little but leave a few scratch marks on his cheek; he barely even flinches at the contact.

“You vile, loathsome, piece of South Side trash.”

She punctuates each harsh word with an equally harsh push to Sweet Pea’s chest, but they don’t do much more damage than her slap did, and the tall boy’s feet don’t even budge from the force of them.

He lets her hit him a few more times before he finally grabs her wrists—not hard enough to hurt her, just to stop her—and pulls her body closer until she’s still and flush against his front.

Cheryl’s breathing heavily, her chest heaving against his, and her eyes are wide as she stares up at him, but there’s no fear in them. She’s not afraid of Sweet Pea, as much as she hates him and his kind, and she doesn’t try to pull away from him, either.

Not even when he surges forward suddenly and crashes their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Cheryl knows she should be disgusted and affronted at this boy’s rash actions, and she is, but not enough to not kiss him back, apparently, because as soon as she gets over her initial shock at the sudden shift, Cheryl’s opening her mouth to welcome Sweet Pea’s tongue inside.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there kissing hungrily for, just that when Sweet Pea lets go of her wrists to move his hands to her hips, Cheryl comes to her senses and pushes him away harshly; actually sending him staggering back a few feet this time in his daze.

“How _dare_ you touch me,” she spits out indignantly, as if she hadn’t just reciprocated his advances wholeheartedly.

Sweet Pea doesn’t say anything back, just stares at her as he catches his breath; his eyes hot on Cheryl, even though all she can look at are his parted lips. They both stand there for long moments, panting and glaring, until they’re both suddenly taking steps forward at the same time and meeting in the middle like they’re magnetized, to bring their mouths back together again.

This time when Sweet Pea’s hands find Cheryl’s hips, she arches into him instead of shoving him away, and when he starts leading her backwards until she’s pressed against the front of the car, she doesn’t fight that, either.

“I sincerely hope,” Cheryl mumbles between harsh kisses, her words breathy and slurred. “You don’t think this means I don’t still find you utterly repulsive.”

He pulls away from her to roll his eyes. “Stop talking,” he orders the redhead as he hoists her up to sit on the hood of the car. “Or you’re gonna ruin this for me.”

Sweet Pea kisses Cheryl before she can reply, swallowing her insult and replacing it with his tongue as he licks into her mouth once again. She lets him do it just like last time, and even brings her own hands up to wrap around the boy; fingers curling in the black leather of his jacket and pulling him closer.

His hands slide down from her hips to settle on her bare thighs, squeezing them once before he pushes them apart so he can move in between them, and he smiles against Cheryl’s mouth when her legs immediately wrap themselves around his waist to keep him there.

They rock against each other for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes and Cheryl can’t remember the last time she felt this alive; making out with a Serpent on her dead brother’s old car, in the dim light of a deserted street on the south side of Riverdale.

It’s disgusting and out of character, and Cheryl is sure to regret it when she has to see this insufferable boy at school everyday, but she can’t bring herself to care right now, not now that Sweet Pea’s somehow snuck one of his large hands between their bodies and found more proof of her arousal.

Cheryl gasps into Sweet Pea’s mouth when he bypasses her wet panties to get right to the source, and then she’s whimpering as his fingers tease through her folds before settling at her opening and slipping inside.

“I-I…” Her words—whatever they were going to be, she’s not entirely sure—catch in her throat, and her eyes flutter closed as Sweet Pea captures her lips in another kiss to stop her from attempting to speak again.

His fingers move in and out of her fast and hard, as much is possible in their tight embrace, but it isn’t long until Cheryl’s rocking her hips forward to meet Sweet Pea’s fingers and angle herself just right so that the heel of his hand presses against her clit everytime he pushes into her.

Her bucking gets more erratic the closer she gets, and then all it takes is a few more well timed pumps and the curling of Sweet Pea’s fingers to push her off the ledge.

Cheryl’s whole body quivers as her orgasm hits her suddenly, all her normal composure gone as she comes against Sweet Pea’s hand; forehead pressed against his chin and her own hands clinging to the back of his jacket to anchor her there. Her thighs have seized and her legs have locked around the boy’s waist, trapping him against her as she falls apart

His fingers are still moving inside her, though a little slower now, dragging her pleasure out for as long as possible until she finally slumps against his chest, spent. Her breathing comes in heavy pants, and she lets herself go and allows herself to have this moment of vulnerability with this stranger for just a little bit as she comes down.

But then as quickly as it all happened, Cheryl’s head clears and the feeling in her limbs comes back, and she’s dropping her legs from around Sweet Pea so she can shove him away from her again.

This push sends Sweet Pea staggering back several feet, his hazy eyes darting between Cheryl and his hovering hand, now soaked in her arousal. He looks like he can’t quite believe that just happened, and judging by the bulge in his pants, like he enjoyed it as much as she did. Well, maybe not _quite_ as much—not yet, anyways.

Cheryl stares at Sweet Pea as she hops down off the car and doesn’t look away even as she hikes up her nightgown and pulls her red lace panties down to mid thigh. It isn’t until she’s turning around to bend over the hood of Jason’s car that she breaks their gaze, but then Sweet Pea has something even better to look at.

When she doesn’t hear the boy moving, Cheryl looks over her shoulder to glare at him. “What exactly are you waiting for, _Serpent_? A handwritten invitation?”

Her words seem to snap Sweet Pea out of whatever stupor he was in, because soon enough he’s stalking back towards her, hands working so fast that he has his pants undone and his own underwear down by the time he reaches her.

“Turn around,” he orders Cheryl once he’s right behind her, his erection pressed against her ass as he places the hand he just used to get her off on her upper back and pushes her down fully against the cool surface of the hood. “I don’t wanna look at you.”

Cheryl can’t help but smirk at his words, because they have that in common, and the orders combined with the way Sweet Pea’s manhandling her makes the ache between her legs grow.

That growing need is quickly on its way to be being sated as Sweet Pea runs the head of his cock through Cheryl’s flushed folds a few times to coat it in her copious juices before he sinks his entire length into her in one go.

“Oh my—” Cheryl’s moan is strangled but loud, and would no doubt be easy to hear if there were anyone else but the two of them within a mile radius.

It makes Sweet Pea laugh darkly as he starts to thrust into her, the hand on Cheryl’s back moving up her spine to twist into thick red hair and pull. She hisses at the sudden stinging in her scalp, but maybe she gets off on the pain, if the way her cunt squeezes around Sweet Pea’s cock is any indication.

“I knew you’d like it rough, Red,” the boy grunts from behind her, obviously feeling the way she responded to his actions. He pulls on her hair harder, so that she’s arching backwards, the strength of it lifting her chest clear off the hood. “Rich bitches like you always like getting put in your place.”

Cheryl’s scoff is more like a moan, and it turns out she might get off on being shamed, too. “As, as if you’d… know,” she struggles to get out around the coiling in her belly that feels more like its in her throat. “I’m surely, the most—the most expensive place you’ve ever, ever been inside.”

Sweet Pea laughs again, bending a bit at the knees so he can angle his thrusts up and really get in deep. He’s immediately rewarded by a guttural moan Cheryl doesn’t even try to bite back.

“I know the self proclaimed North Side Queen herself, Cheryl Blossom, likes getting fucked doggy style by a South Side Serpent,” he taunts her, and his words make Cheryl’s thighs—and other parts of her—quake. Or, maybe that’s more from the way Sweet Pea’s cock is hitting that special spot inside her just right now. “You come down here in your little nightie just to get plowed by some _south side scum_ , Blossom?”

She didn’t, but Cheryl likes the way it feels when she pretends she did—not to mention the way it makes Sweet Pea’s thrusts that much harder. “It’s all you’re good for,” she manages to get out, voice strained and whiny as her second orgasm inches closer with each pump of Sweet Pea’s hips. “A clan—clandestine, rough and tumble romp… under the cover of—the cover of darkness.”

Cheryl’s harsh words have the desired effect on the boy fucking into her from behind, because it seems she’s not the only one that gets off on the shame and the insults; on the hate.

She wonders, just briefly, if Sweet Pea’s enjoying it for the same reason she is; if he has ever present feelings of shame and self hatred simmering below the surface, that usually just makes him angry, but right now, in this moment, actually makes him feel _good_. But then his canting hips push the thought away again, as quickly as it came, and all Cheryl can think about is herself.

Because Sweet Pea’s pace quickens and it all gets harder—the grip on her hair, the fingers bruising her hip bones and the massive cock driving into her _over and over_ again—but that’s what Cheryl wanted.

Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing when her aimless late night drive found her on the wrong side of the town border, or maybe she did; all she knows is that she knew exactly what she wanted the second Sweet Pea parked his bike, even if she didn’t realize it at the time.

Cheryl Blossom has a lot of issues, and being wound up tight is one of the smaller ones, but it’s also one of the only ones she knows how to handle. And if her miserable mother can find solace and some warped version of happiness in bedding the less desirable men of Riverdale, who is she to knock it without trying it?

“So how does it feel?” Sweet Pea asks the question she knows the answer to, but won’t tell him, as he leans over her back to get closer to her ear. “To have a _Serpent_ inside you? To know that feeling growing in the pit of your belly is because of _me_? Because a Serpent is fucking you so good?”

 _Fuck_ , Cheryl’s so close, and every taunting word out of Sweet Pea’s mouth just inches her closer and closer to—

There’s fingers on her clit suddenly, pressing hard enough to make her stumble, and then everything tightens as Cheryl falls; _down down down_ into some kind of endless abyss of crashing waves that hit her hard and all at once.

She cries something out as she comes, she can hear it ringing in her ears, but for the life of her Cheryl can’t understand what it is. All she can feel and comprehend right now is pleasure, and throbbing and _oh_ , now there’s a thick warmth flooding inside her, that Cheryl’s too blissed out to register is coming from the boy behind her.

Sweet Pea is coming with her, his own body jerking with every spurt of cum he spills into Cheryl’s tight, clutching cunt, and even _that_ feels good—the messiness, the irresponsibility; it’s dirty and risky and _he’s a fucking Serpent for fuck’s sake_ , and Cheryl thinks maybe she could come a third time, just from the feeling of it alone.

But the moment passes, after heavy, long beats, and as the teenagers come down, that tingling sensation Cheryl felt all over her skin moments ago feels more like crawling now, and she shoulder checks the tall boy off of her.

Sweet Pea’s dick slips out of Cheryl when he moves back, and their glares are weak, but still there, as they start getting themselves together again, until they look like nothing just happened.

“So can you fix my car?” Cheryl wonders once she’s got her panties back in place and her nightgown smoothed out over her thighs. Her tone is both impatient and nonchalant, and her message is clear; move on.

He lets out a disbelieving huff and looks like he’s dying to say something smart about it, but he doesn't. Instead, he just tells her, “I got no idea what’s wrong with your car.”

“Of course you don’t,” Cheryl mumbles, arms across her chest again, suddenly feeling cold. She waits for Sweet Pea to offer some other solution, but all he does is raise an eyebrow at her. “Well? How do you expect me to overcome this predicament? Surely you don’t expect me to walk all the way home.”

She might have been momentarily considering that before, out of sheer desperation, but Cheryl doesn’t think she’d be able to get very far now, not on her wobbly legs and the stickiness she can already feel dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. “You can borrow my phone, if you want,” he reluctantly offers, hand slipping into his leather jacket to pull out the out of date smart phone he has in the breast pocket of his plaid shirt. “If you know anyone that gives enough of a shit about you to come to the South Side at 1:30 in the morning.”

Cheryl looks at the phone he’s presenting her with wearily, and turns her nose up at it. “Or you could give me a ride.”

“Think I already did that, Red,” he just has to taunt her with a smug grin, and he lets out an _oof_ when Cheryl punches him in the chest as she stalks past him and towards his bike.

“Shut up and get on,” she snaps once she gets there, slipping onto the back of it and picking up his helmet to put it on herself. “The _bike_ ,” Cheryl immediately adds before Sweet Pea can interject with another dirty line. She almost cracks a smile after that, feeling this strange sense of companionship with him now, that she can only hope goes away by the morning.

He holds his hands up innocently, though his smirk is anything but, and he pockets his phone again before he thinks to grab the keys out of Cheryl's car and then moves to join her.

Sweet Pea looks at her sitting there in nothing but her tiny nightgown and he rolls his eyes at himself before he put the keys in the pocket of his Serpents jacket and slips it off to wrap it around Cheryl's shoulders wordlessly, despite the snarl she shoots him.

She considers protesting or shrugging it off, but she knows she'll get cold once they start driving, so she keeps her lips zipped for a change, and just slips her arms through the sleeves of the way too big leather jacket and tries not to think of the symbol stitched on the back of it.

Mounting his bike, Sweet Pea turns it on and turns back to Cheryl behind him. “Hold on,” he advises her, his tone suggesting he knows just how unappealing she'll at least pretend that action is, despite what they just finished doing.

“Just watch where you’re going, _snake_ ,” Cheryl warns him before slipping the helmet over her head and her arms around his waist. She squeezes tight and presses her head against his strong back as her gaze moves towards her brother’s car, hoping it will be safe until she can send someone to get it come daylight.

“Just don’t stain my seat,” he snarks back, and revs the engine and takes off in the direction of the North Side before he has to hear her biting reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Would very much appreciate it if you hit that kudos button or left a comment if you enjoyed. Thanks for reading and I hope everyone enjoyed Kink Week as much as I enjoyed participating.


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